Star wars characters are NOT important right now
by DeannaReadX
Summary: "You're human you can't – I can't" "Yes you can" he snapped, growling rather wolf-like himself as he decided to just give up the convincing thing. It wasn't like Derek had free will right now anyway. Stiles shoved his arm in Derek's mouth and forced the fangs deep into his skin.


HEEEEEYYYYY!

So I think this is my first uploaded Sterek. I'm working on something very similar, but multi-chapter and this is just a sort of on-a-whim thing to pass the time.

Hope you like it :D

The new Chapter of Witch, Lionheart & King's Temporary Wardrobe coming up soon, but I have A LOT of work to do in the next couple of weeks so it will be a little while longer.

* * *

So normally Stiles would be the first person to step aside and let someone kill Derek Hale, the dude was a nuisance! He was creepy, lurky, gloomy and waaay too big and pretty for Stiles' liking. Not to mention the fact that his existence in Stiles' life had brought nothing but trouble and unnecessary pain both mental and physical – hello! You can't just shove people against reeaally solid surfaces all the time and expect them to be your number one fan.

But this was wrong, and Derek was seriously, like actually really hurt and it unsettled Stiles enough that big bad wolfy boy wasn't growling and pouncing at the alpha pack drawing closer to him, he liked it even less that he wouldn't be able to defend himself. It wasn't a fair fight, and if there was one thing Stiles really hated, it was unfair advantages. Well, on the opposing side anyway.

So it wasn't like he was really in his right mind when he flung himself in front of Derek anyway. He was covered in alarmingly red blood and he had just watched his pack scatter into very vicious wolf fights and he was human, and vulnerable and stupid and running on pure adrenaline and so it was perfectly understandable that he would be doing something incredibly reckless and dumb right now, right?

Probably not. But he couldn't help it.

"No!" he yelled out to the gleaming red eyes coming at them slowly, prowling forwards towards them stretched out in a semi-circle, claws bared, fangs snapping carnally. The smell of blood was putrid in the air and Stiles grimaced at his own actions as he blindly fumbled to help Derek up. There was no use in it though, the wolf was half conscious, red eyes heartpullingly terrified and angry, little raspy whimpers and whines escaping through his lips as he gnarled around, coughing and spluttering and gasping at Stiles to get away, to leave him.

"Aren't you all just lovely, scary little rottwielers?" Stiles tried to distract them as they loomed in on them further. He did all he could think of, and pushed Derek's thrashing body against the bottom of a tree, desperately crawling across the ground to use himself as a shield.

"Sti- Stiles don't- don't be fucking stupid" Derek choked violently but Stiles ignored him, shaking his head, a manic smile on his face as his eyes widened in sheer fright.

"C'mon sourwolf, y'know me, I never listen" Stiles panted, the tiniest catatonic chuckle dropping from his mouth as he moved to shield him further.

"Dudes, it's not a fair fight, you really gonna do this? It's silly-" he was cut off momentarily by a particularly angry guttural growl to the left of him and he swallowed, nodding "okay, not calling the psychopathic werewolves about to rip my throat out 'silly', got it" he spoke, words losing their pace. His heart was thudding desperately against his chest now and he was pretty damn sure that the ill-tempered alpha pack surrounding him were getting some sort of sick ass kick out of it. He felt Derek trying to pull into a defensive position behind him but he knew it was no use. They were pretty much dead.

Yet his hyperactive brain still sped a thousand kilojoules a minute trying to come up with a solution, a miraculous plan, some sort of great escape that wouldn't include him running like hell and leaving his grumpy sourwolf for dead.

He had never been so pissed at himself for drawing a blank and he was literally about to completely give up all hope until he realised what he had to do.

He whipped around, grabbing Derek's face in his hands and slapping him, getting his eyes open properly and looking directly at him.

"Dude you gotta bite me, okay? Its the only way" Stiles whispered although he knew the pack drawing ever closer to them had probably heard it.

"No! No fuckin-"

"Shut the fuck up and do it! We're gonna die if you don't and it was only a matter of time anyway. Do it!" Stiles urged, patience wearing thin now, desperation curling angry and terrified in his gut.

"Stiles you're – you're human you can't – I can't"

"Yes you can" he snapped, growling rather wolf-like himself as he decided to just give up the convincing thing. It wasn't like Derek had free will right now anyway.

He grabbed Derek's jaw, rolled his own sleeve up and ignored the noises of protest and feeble movements against him as Stiles shoved his arm in Derek's mouth and forced the fangs deep into his skin.

He coughed out violently in pain, hunching over, lungs heaving and lurching hysterically for Oxygen. His arm felt like it was on fire, the skin being licked and caressed by flames or lava or whatever. It was a stupid metaphor. It was painful anyway and Stiles was achingly well aware of the moronic and stolid choice he had just made.

But suddenly his mind was throbbing, all his senses tingling agonisingly, his nervous system convulsing like he was having an epileptic fit, his vision was clouded with tears of anguish as his body clicked and changed and his bones grew far more solid, stronger, his fingernails extending. Slowly, finally, as every sound and smell became tormentingly clear and sensitive to his entire body, his fangs elongated and the hairs along his arms stood on end, the left one still twitching gently as the teeth marks healed over.

He turned rancorously with deliberate stagnancy, eyes narrowed. He wondered for a moment whether the new crystal blue wolf eyes looked cool, but his evolving instincts pushed the distracting notion away forcefully as he stood athletically and with incredible dexterity, to a standing position, back slightly arched, claws itching to be slashed through the skin of the things threatening them.

The smell of blood was even more strong and malodorous now his nose was picking up every prick of redolence in the air. Every rustle of boots against leaves and twigs could be heard as Stiles readied himself for attack.

This was better, this was stronger. This, although there was still a near impossibly thin chance they would live, evened the field more. Stiles felt unyielding, steadfast, real. For a skinny kid with an attention deficit disorder and a virginity to rival that of a unicorn, Stiles was unfaltering. The power flowing through his veins and buzzing behind his eye sockets was overriding the part of his brain that was still screaming at him to get the fuck out of there and leave Derek – the bastard – to death.

The alphas were acutely imminent now and Stiles forced his fear to steady him, to focus his strength.

Just as the head of the pack was gearing up to pounce, Scott yelled out, lurching through the air and landing on it. Within seconds the sound of ripping flesh and growling was hot and thick. From the corner of his eye, as Stiles was combat with some little pixie sized bitch with wicked grapplers, he saw Isaac throwing Derek over his shoulders and dissapearing from the scene.

For a split second Stiles was distracted and a gash was ripped across his torso, but in a moment, he had forced the alpha girl against a tree, not matching her for strength, but definitely overtaking her for anger.

It was true, what he'd said about it only being a matter of time. It wasn't like Stiles hadn't known he would eventually end up with the bite, he just hadn't expected it so soon, and so pointlessly. He was mentally stabbing himself. If he had just waited one more minute, just sixty more seconds; then Scott would have come, the pack would have come for them and he wouldn't have had to take the bite.

Awh man, Derek was going to be uber _pissed _at him for this. If he made it through this fight – fucking ow! The bitch slashed his cheek! - then Derek would surely pull his body apart and burn the pieces.

Suddenly he was aware that actually, the pixie bitch was winning, and he just lost it. There was no way he was going to let this whole thing be in vain. He shoved her back against the bark even more forcefully and kneed her hard in the pelvis, roaring as she sunk her teeth into his hand, but taking advantage of his free right one, and ruthlessly slashing her throat clean in half.

The fight around him died down and eventually Erica, Jackson and Scott had to join forces to take down the largest alpha before Stiles stumbled backward, eyes wide, throat bobbing as the scene in front of him registered and sunk in, the blood on his hands becoming real, the dead, cold body in front of him solidifying as his nails drew back to their original size and the gaping cuts along his stomach properly began to sting, his fangs crawling back into his jaw, his body, for the most part, returning to normal.

"Stiles" a weak voice said to the left of him "Stiles, we need to get rid of the bodies" the sound of Erica's heart beating from ten yards away trembled in his ears, the soft hum and whoosh of cars from the nearby motorway rolling around his brain, the ruffle of Scott's bloody hand as it ran through his hair like it always did when he was stressed whispering harshly across his senses.

He felt unnatural, numb yet in pain, the sharp pungency of his lacerations working to heal under his ripped t-shirt reminding him of what should have killed him. The blow that should have taken his life, would be gone in a few hours, the skin flawless as if nothing had ever happened. And someone else's blood dripped shiny and crimson from his fingertips, little jewels trickling through the air to the cold, hard ground.

"Boyd, you get those two, Jackson, take the emo boy. Scott, you carry pixie and Erica, you take that bastard there, we gotta get out of here, the rain will get rid of the blood" Stiles' voice came out quiet and neutral. There was no need for him to speak up, they could all hear him as clearly as he could hear them.

He didn't know what made him move, but all he knew was that this was his 'thing'. He took control when everyone else was too lost or numb or niave to be in charge. A human amongst wolves. Except he wasn't, not anymore. He was another beta, a superhuman with a dog for a second personality. Great. Just fucking lovely. How the hell was he supposed to explain this to his father?

"Stiles are you-"

"Scott, just do it" he snapped, wiping the blood off his hands on his jeans and bending down, grabbing the nearest body around the waist and hoisting it over his shoulder with ease. It took him aback for a moment, the strength, the agility, the simplicity with which he was able to lift someone at least a hundred pounds heavier than himself. But he shook it off yet again. He didn't know what his brain was doing, but this was what his body was doing, it was handing out tasks and taking it's own. It was running damage control.

It was like it was programmed into him or something, like C3PO. Man that golden tin can was cool. Was Scott like his R2D2 then? Oh what the fuck did it matter? He was holding a dead guy on his shoulder and the torn skin of his diaphragm was about two minutes away from completely healing, fucking Star Wars characters were not important.


End file.
